


Like Water on the Moon

by magnetic_pole



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-26
Updated: 2010-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetic_pole/pseuds/magnetic_pole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In her mind's eye, Moody's leg is right again, and he walks up the path with a bunch of flowers under his arm and a spring in his step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Water on the Moon

Alice knows she ought to be listening more carefully. Moody is pacing back and forth at the front of the classroom, lecturing gruffly on Apparating under pressure, and the thump of his wooden leg on the floor is more than enough reminder of the danger of splinching. But Amelia is sitting just to her right, casting her sly looks, and Alice is fidgeting with excitement and counting the minutes until class is over.

_All a bit grim, isn't it?_

Alice jumps to see her quill moving across the parchment independently, as if it's been charmed to take notes. To her right, Amelia rests her chin on her hands and looks brightly at Moody, as if she has nothing but her studies on her mind. _Death Eaters, attacks, splinching, all on a sunny Friday afternoon?_

_I think it's important we learn these things, Auror Bones,_ Alice thinks, concentrating on Amelia's quill, which begins to scratch. _I'd hate to lose even the tiniest part of you._

_The leg, you mean?_ Alice's quill replies. _A glamour, surely. To intimidate his more impressionable students._

At this Alice turns to Amelia and raises an eyebrow. Amelia smiles at her impishly and lifts her chin toward Alice's parchment, where the quill is starting to write again.

_You know Moody's actually a mild-mannered, soft-spoken bloke who goes home to a lovely wife at night--"_

_Husband--_ Alice interrupts.

_\--who goes home to a lovely husband at night. This evening, in fact, the husband's already waiting for him, peeking through the kitchen curtains--_

Alice smiles at the thought. In her mind's eye, Moody's leg is right again, and he walks up the path with a bunch of flowers under his arm and a spring in his step.

_\--and Moody's smiling and whistling under his breath, because it's the weekend. 'Training up the next generation well,' he says, kissing his husband. 'Almost ready to pass this bloody war off to them, and I can finally retire.'_

Amelia glances at her out of the corner of her eye, and Alice thinks about her message for a moment before she causes Amelia's quill to move. _That plan only works if they're fools enough to take this bloody war on, you know._

They've talked more than once about chucking it all: their Auror training, their meetings with the Order, their wands. They could go to some remote Muggle town in the countryside where no one has ever heard of Lord Voldemort, and they could live together happily until they were old, two eccentric ladies who never seem to tire of spending time together. The first time Amelia brought it up, it sounded like a joke, but lately Alice wonders what Amelia would say if Alice showed up on her doorstep, bag in hand. She's that close, sometimes. There are days she loves Amelia so much that everything else seems like a distraction.

"Carrow!" Moody exclaims, breaking through Alice's thoughts. "Bones! Are you two paying attention? This is war we're talking about. There's no time for daydreaming."

"Absolutely, sir," Alice says aloud, fervent, but in her mind's eye, Moody and his husband kiss passionately, as if they might never see each other again, until Moody drops his bunch of flowers on the kitchen floor and steers his husband back, through the hall and into the bedroom, and Alice closes the bedroom door quietly, so as not to disturb them.

_I'm no fool,_ the quill on Amelia's desk writes slowly. _Are you, Amelia?_

Amelia shakes her head almost imperceptibly; no, no she's not. Beneath their desks, Amelia curls her little pinky around Alice's, as if she's making a promise.


End file.
